Rangers Mimic
by TimeLordOfPie
Summary: In a case of wrong place, wrong creature to argue with, a slightly argumentative teen bites off more than she can chew. Luckily she has a sidekick...sort of.
1. Chapter 1

The seams in my backpack were probably straining due to all the textbooks and notes I'd shoved into it, but I needed my hands free. As it was, the squirming puppy nearly sent the both of us tumbling with his complaining. He was supposed to be my grandfathers, a gift from my side of the family to help with his newly bought farm. A Great Pyrenees puppy, with his extra toes on his back feet, and adorable fluffy/pudginess. He was a blob of white fur at the moment, that was complaining for some of that food that was stuffed into my bag.

It's really not his fault that no one else could pick him up today, and not being mad at him was easier than I had thought. He was entirely too cute. But he was also a bit thick, and my arms were starting to ache. I had just left school when the text came through to go get him, so my notes and books were weighing me down. I considered taking a break and sitting down, but he might take it as an invitation for another escape attempt. He was adorable, but I didn't have the energy to chase after his stumbling attempts to run.

My keys fell out of my pocket just as I was considering it, and I let out an explosive sigh. It was difficult to juggle the dog and lean down to pick up the keys, but I got it eventually. My skinny jeans had water on the knees now, and they stuck to my skin even more than before, cold and clammy. My converse weren't much better, waterlogged Alice in Wonderland socks sending my feet into fits. I stuffed them into the front pocket of my hoodie to make them easier to carry, trying to ignore the way the mass of keychains, keys, and trinkets rattled around. I checked the time on the little pocket watch charm, resisting the urge to bang my head against a wall. If Terese already noticed I wasn't back yet then I should just pound my skull in myself, because her wrath would be glorious. My backpack weighed me down, straining my legs when I went to stand back up. I winced, mumbling curse words under my breath to make me feel better. It only worked slightly as I shifted the puppy, resolving to start a petition against the rule about no bags with wheels.

I cut through one of the alleyways in order to try to get home quicker, cool wind brushing against my ears, giving me the creepy sensation of fingers dragging through my close cut hair. The hair in the front flared a bit from the draft, causing me to try to blow on it to keep it out of my face. I skirted a stray dog and his roach buddies, trying to keep the disgust to a minimum. Only a few more blocks till home, after all. I turned sharply behind the chinese place to get to the apartment complex, fighting down my stomach's protests at the glorious smell of wontons and noodles. The puppy whimpered, probably hungry, too.

I was ruefully watching the back door slam shut, wafting the smells my way, when I very unceremoniously ran into a wall. I blinked, shifting the fluffy creatures to free one of my arms for a second and squinting at the air in front of me. There was nothing there. At all.

I poked a finger at it and saw a glimmer of trees through the ripples, taking a hasty step back and blinking rapidly.

"What the fuck?"

No one answered me and I was extremely grateful for it, I was already seeing things, I didn't need voices in my head as well. I glanced around to make sure no one was around to observe me acting like a lunatic. Once I was certain I was alone I stepped forward cautiously, tapping the space again. The ripples once again revealed trees, and if I looked hard enough I could see it was raining there too. The image was beautiful and every time it faded I tapped the air again to bring it back into view. I was tapping away, trying to figure out the logistics of taking a video of this without getting my reflection in the puddles when the area went white.

Completely white. A white figure moved into view, edges blurred just enough to tell it apart from the background. It was grinning, though the expression seemed slightly strained. I stared, racking my brains for what anime I'd seen this in once upon a time, wondering if I'd finally gone off the deep end. I'm done. Stress has done me in. The figure cocked its head, examining me.

"What is it with you people and knocking obnoxiously on the gaps in between dimensions? This is the second time today some idiot teenage girl started knocking in the middle of a deserted alley."

I just gaped and it tilted its head the other way, speaking with a number of voices, layered over one another in a way that sent chills creeping up my spine.

"Well? Why were _you_ knocking, Holly Rhodes?"  
 _It knows my name._ I just ruminated on that until it shifted again and I realized it was probably annoyed with me. This is hella creepy. I stuttered,

"W-eh-you see, um, that is, I, well-"

"Speak clearly."

"Yes of course. I….was curious. I wanted to see something amazing, so I kept tapping."

The thing thought over my answer before the grin widened, showing the shadows of what might be teeth. I shivered, and it stepped closer to whatever divide kept us separated.

"You want to see something amazing? You want to see it badly enough that you'd annoy me for the second time today?"

"...in my defense I wasn't doing the annoying the first time around."

"Then I guess we'll just push you through the dimensions and show you something _amazing_."

It snapped its fingers, ignoring me, and the sound of forrest got louder. I took a step back, wanting to run but stuck in place through sheer curiosity, fight or flight response still buffering, most likely.

Then it stepped forward again and _leaned._ It grabbed my wrist, and there was no texture, no temperature, just pressure. I didn't even have time to yank away before it was pulling me forward through the blankness. I saw _white_ , and then colors, and then nothing at all. The air seemed to vibrate, giving me a hyper feeling that had my eyes popping open and instantly I was rushing to my feet. Trees. Fucking. Everywhere. I put my hand back through where I would have come from, waving it around to make sure nothing was there anymore. The puppy was just as traumatized as I was, so I held it closer, turning in a complete circle. I sat down abruptly, hyperventilating.

 _Thisisn'twhatImeantholyshitwhatamIgoingtodo-is that a bunny?_

The rabbit crossed over my legs, continuing on and I stared after it,

"What the actual fuck?"

The rabbit looked at me, scrunching it's nose up cutely, rubbing front paws through greyish fur before scuttling off. Panic attack diverted, for the moment, I took stock of what I had with me. Paper, books, pencils, pens, highlighters, various other school supplies, cell phone, and key chain. That was all I was certain of. And baby dog, plus food. I sat heavily under one of the trees, hiding from the water and tucked said dog into my lap. I dug out my phone first, no signal. Whatsoever. I put it up with a sigh, running my hands all over my head, skating through the short hair, leaving it sticking up wildly. I left it there, not caring at the moment. If I cared about it I wouldn't have cut nearly all of it off. I was getting tired of the redhead jokes, I have a soul, thank you.

I leaned against the tree, taking a deep breath to think things through. Okay. I had taken a class about this shit as an elective. Intellectually I knew what to do. Physically? I was fucking screwed. I'd joined archery club in order to get out of having to take a physical education class. I couldn't run to save my life. Well, maybe _technically_ , like if a bear was chasing me. Then I could probably discover some hidden ability to run like hell. As it was I was only motivated by sheer panic. But running wouldn't do me any good now. I needed to find shelter from the rain, and think of a fucking plan.

If the Truth (I remember now, FMA, duh, haven't seen _that_ in forever…) was truly a gate to somewhere else, and this was an alternate dimension, then I needed to figure out where I was, and what sort of society was located here. But that could wait, honestly. Curiosity had already killed the cat once today, kitty wants food and a nap before she tempts fate again. I could start a fire, we'd gone over that in class, actually having to start a flame in a controlled setting for a grade. I had the binder with the notes on that actually. As the thought hit me I dove for the notes, tossing aside the AP Calculus, not feeling a lick of regret when it became soaked. That shit's unnecessary anyway.

I flipped open the binder, passing over my foreign language notes until I got to the back pages, flopping down on the ground to read through what could be my salvation. I skipped most of it, it's not like I could wait around for someone to find me. For all I know I'm in a dimension where _pokemon_ are real, if TRUTH is here who knows what shit I'm dealing with. I don't want to be unarmed and in the open when fucking zubat swoops in and starts shit.

The further I read, the more the slight shaking in my hands calmed. I could do this. I would survive. I would make a camp, figure out how to survive a little while in nature, and then I would find civilization and get a read on this dimension. Terese would be pissed when I never came back but...tears hit my hands and I jerked my head back to avoid ruining the notes with them, tilting my head up to look into the rain.

Terese would be alone. Her boyfriend had left her when she had to start taking care of me full time, but she was a good sister. A bit harsh and controlling, but loyal and loving all the same. She punched the lights out of that one waiter who she thought might get fresh with me in Denny's last week.

 _She's fucking 16, hands off jackass!_

I snorted at the memory, her nostrils flaring, the nose ring and brilliant red hair completing the image of an angry bull. I took a deep breath, letting myself dwell on thoughts of her until I couldn't hold it in any longer. Then I released the air with a whoosh. I'd let it go, for now. Of course I was going to _look_ into ways to get home, but for now I needed to survive. I went back to breathing normally, much calmer now, looking back to the notes.

Come to think of it, Terese would be more pissed if I got myself killed in the woods like some pansy. She'd want me to put up a fight, to not be beaten by anything and take on everything with a snarl and a middle finger salute. I'd always been more the type to curl up and read a book, but for now I could stand to be more like my sister.

I shuffled closer to the tree, carding slightly trembling fingers through the dog's fur, content with my plan for the moment:. Live.

 **~TimeLordOfPie**


	2. Chapter 2

"This was a jankety ass plan."

I snarled at the sticks in my hand, going back to using one of my old house keys to scrape at it, shaping it how I needed it. It wasn't cooperating properly and this was my seventh stick in the last hour. I had slept in a huddle under my tree, curling around my things to try to keep them mostly dry. Now that the sun was shining, a watery globe barely seen in the distance, I was taking the opportunity to work.

I knew, in _theory_ of course, how to make a recurve bow in the middle of the woods. Eventually. From there I would be able to get food. I was a little fuzzy on how I was going to cook and sanitize it, but that would wait until later. For now I had to _get_ the food. The dog was chowing down on his puppy food beside me, and I made a mental note to figure out a name for the little guy. It wasn't like he was going to Grandfathers any time soon.

It took another hour (or four) to finally, lovingly, shape a stick correctly. It was strong, but springy enough. I had already fashioned a bowstring out of the string from my hoodie. Attaching it so that it would work correctly took another hour or so. I drew it back smoothly, with only the slightest bit of difficulty. It wasn't the correct draw weight but I could get used to it easier than I could make a better bow. Arrows were next.

I had to find a different tree with lower hanging branches, a nice hollowed out area at the base. I stripped off the hoodie, shivering slightly in only my sleeveless deathly hallows tank, racerback bra showing in the back. I didn't care too much about that. No one around here was going to see my poor fashion choice anyway. I draped the hoodie over some of the branches, using the arms to tie it tightly in place as a sort of roof to keep out most of the rain. I sat under it for a second, just smirking, grateful I love oversized hoodies, and basking in my moment of more or less accidental intelligence. I moved the sleeping puppy, who had passed out completely the moment he had finished eating.

Then I got moving again, scooping aside the soggy leaves and digging a good sized indention in the earth. With that done, I gathered the wood I had hunted for and stashed in the waistband of my jeans to keep dry. Starting a fire was more difficult than I had thought it would be, it'd been awhile since I'd had to do this after all. But I got it done eventually, our final in that survival class _had_ involved making a fire. It had been in controlled conditions, but it was better than no experience at all. I sat beside the small blaze, drinking in the heat while I could, whitling out an arrow. I had nothing to make fletchings out of, and no way of knowing _how_ , really, so I would just have to practice a bit to determine how that affected its flight. _Then_ I could go after food.

Hardening the points of the 'arrows' in the fire was more difficult than the internet had made it sound. Four arrows lost to the flames and I finally had it down. I should have started with normal sticks to just test how to do it but everyone has their idiot moments. I used only one of the arrows to practice with, getting a feel for the weapon and adjusting things. Then I set out hunting, being sure to remember where I went so I could find my way back to my camp and stash of belongings.

There was a scare with a deer, well, it scared me and then I scared it and I was left still hungry. But the third rabbit I saw I finally got, more or less on accident. I had a feeling that people weren't common around here, and that if the rabbit had been even the slightest bit on its guard I would have been hungry for a few more days. The blood wasn't something I was really prepared for. But I pushed back bile and scooped up my prey, careful to keep it away from me. The scent of blood would never leave my clothes if I got it on them, then I would be marked as a predator. As it was I probably smelled like 'lavender escape', as the laundry detergent box had advertised.

In the end I used one of my keys to 'skin' the creature, ending with a bloody mess and at least three piles of vomit a few stumbling steps away from where I was preparing it. I ended up holding pieces of the meat over the fire on one of the failed arrows that had the ends scraped clean, rotating it like a marshmallow and sarcastically singing campfire songs under my breath. It didn't taste the best but I was fed at least. My canteen from my lunch box was easy enough to catch rainwater in, so I didn't dehydrate. I knew rainwater wasn't the 'cleanest' because of pollution and other shit but I didn't have much of a choice. 'Fluffy white' had taken care of the entrails before I got around to burying them away from the camp site. I spent a good bit of time cleaning his complaining muzzle, the contrast of red on white fur was disconcerting.

I used the same key for gutting to scrape as much gook off of the rabbit fur and cleaning it in a surprisingly deep puddle.

I set it to the side of my camp to dry, unsure really what to do with it, but unwilling to throw it away. I had most of the bones, washed of course, and I knew that in _theory_ they could be used for sewing needles or some other thing. In history class they used bone for all sorts of tools. I could always experiment when the rain got too bad for me to want to risk leaving my shelter. When it had slacked off I had gathered thicker limbs with nice collections of leaves and placed them strategically in the branches like the roof of a small hut, leaning larger ones to the sides as a barrier for the wind. I couldn't get to the ones that would be the most useful, being the weakling I am. I resolved to fix that. Pull ups was something that was very possible here,with all of the freaking trees. At least one branch had to be sturdy enough to be a pull up bar.

That night I was less exhausted, and didn't sleep as well. Now that I was thinking clearer, rested, with food in my stomach I realized that I was alone. I only had a puppy for companionship. I was vulnerable. True, I had my weapon, but it was pitiful at best and I wasn't exactly _good_ at it. I'd gotten third place in some contests a few times, but that was a compound bow, a recurve bow was always more difficult, and this one wasn't even properly made. I glared around at the darkness, arrow nocked and waiting. The fire had died down slightly and I was loath to bring it up again lest it attract attention. The chill had me poking it back to life and feeding it once again, though I told myself that it was just to keep away dangerous animals. But I knew a fire of this size wouldn't keep away anything truly dangerous.

That wouldn't stop me from sleeping a little easier with it glowing merrily at my bare feet, socks and converse drying on a rock beside us, the puppy curled up next to me. I resolved to buy twenty pillows the moment I had the means again. I always slept with a lot of pillows and I was missing them now more than ever. The rain started again with a soft clatter and I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning back against the tree. Well, at least I was still alive. Pushing back mental break down and most likely fighting off the beginnings of several diseases depending on how clean the rainwater was in this dimension, but currently _alive_.

 **~TimeLordOfPie**


	3. Chapter 3

I scratched the days every evening into the trunk of the tree with one of my house keys, the blue one with m&m's on it. I was at 47 days and in the best shape of my life. I had conditioned myself heavily, as much as possible, determined not to die because of my previous weakness. My training with archery was stolen straight out of the Ranger's Apprentice books. I had set up targets in various positions, firing rapidly in no order whatsoever, never hitting the same target twice before collecting arrows and trying again. Doing run by shots was near impossibly, walking shots were a bit easier, but difficult all the same. I was now a mock 'kings ranger'. All I needed was the cloak and knives. And a real bow...

Teaching Padfoot, Sirius had seemed too formal for a dog, had been swift. There was one moment of pure fear when I shot an arrow and he streaked across my improvised firing range. I taught him about that shit quick. His collar that I had was for when he was grown, so it was nowhere near the right size at the moment. His breed get up to 3 and a half feet tall still on all fours, and 130 pounds at least. He'd be mistaken for a fucking polar bear. But at the moment he was a cotton ball who had a backpack string set up as an improvised collar/leash set to train him not to jump in front of arrows.

I was thinking about patrolling further than I usually did from camp in an attempt to find civilization. But with dimensional differences for all I knew I could be the only human being alive so far. If I see a single dinosaur I swear…I was fear of the unknown, fear of my own incompetence, that kept me where I had landed.

But things were going smoothly enough, I guess. Turns out my canteen is pretty heat resistant. It took some finagling with hot rocks, sticks, and holes in the dirt, but eventually I managed and soup was on the menu. It wasn't the best soup ever, but it was warm and filling.

Padfoot made a brilliant blanket once it started getting a bit colder, and the fire plus the dog were enough to keep me from being too chilled, even if we still used my hoodie for a roof. Once I got confident enough to search for deer, and skilled enough to take them down, I had enough fur to make a blanket. Those keys got a work out yet again, poking holes and cutting stips of deer hide. Some was used to hold it all together, but I managed to attach a bunch of my rabbit furs to a main piece of deer hide. So I had a weather resistant rabbit fur quilt thingy. Sleeping rabbit fur down and facing me it was snug and fluffy, especially with Padfoot curled up with me. Entirely worth the days of constant labor it took to create.

I wasn't willing to even attempt wasting resources making a new shirt. This one was doing fine, and if I got cold I had a smaller blanket that I could wrap like a cape and huddle under when hunting. I had fudged together a quiver to hold arrows while I hunted, more of a deer hide cylinder held together with other strips of deer hide. But it worked well enough. A strap, also of deer hide surprise surprise, kept it in place in the form of an over the shoulder strap.

My clothes were washed, or at least rinsed and beaten, regularly I would trade out, doing layers at different times, so I would always have something on when other things were drying. It became easier when I had the cape and blanket done. I would wash all of it and wrap up, reading or something while bundled in the fur. It was odd, and I wasn't a fan, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

Padfoot had gotten better about roaming free. The more I fed him the closer he kept. Great Pyrenees were a herding breed, and apparently I'm the sheep. Who catches the food. It didn't make sense, but dogs will be dogs. He was growing, probably because of the mostly meat diet he had now. I had weaned him off Kibbles and bits because that stuff was now long gone.

The rangers apprentice books were my main source of practice material, and the one novel of it I had with me was my source of entertainment. Sure, I had my English textbook filled with stories and poems, but old habits died hard, and I would automatically try to start on the questions afterwards. I had more time to read than I thought. I had assumed that I would be constantly working on something, but I didn't have the resources to keep meat for long, so one animal would last a while. The plants I recognized that could go into my stew also wouldn't keep long, so I didn't spend time just gathering them.

Some days I would just...stop. I would lie there in my little nest I called a 'bed' and wonder about the point of it all. Then Padfoot would nudge me, wanting to play, or drool all over my face. Once you got over the ew factor it became easier to continue. I would spend the next week being productive, making more arrows, or improving what I had. I had already made two different versions of my bow, the second one was shit, but the third turned out better than the original.

Days, weeks, and months passed. I counted carefully, and on my seventeenth birthday I had a lazy day, no workout for the first day since I had arrived. No practice. Just me and my books. When it approached the first year I started to think it was time to move camp. I would have to go further and further to hunt the longer we stayed here. Padfoot was now around the size he would remain, though the pamphlet that came with him suggested he had more weight to gain when he got out of his 'teenager' phase. I had been making excuses about leaving, fear that I wouldn't find another good campsite, not wanting to run into anything dangerous, not knowing what was ahead, not wanting Padfoot to run off while we walked. The last worry was useless, he stuck to me constantly. If he ever wandered he kept me in sight. His collar fit now, but the hoodie string leash wasn't necessary.

So at my 18th birthday I forced myself to toss a coin. My wallet had 40 dollars and 72 cents in it, all useless now. But that lone quarter made the decision for us to get our asses in gear. My backpack was cleaned of trash and most useless things, but I couldn't let go of most of it. Who knew when I could find paper, pens, or pencils again. And my books were staying. Bookworm that I am they would get me killed, but I couldn't give them up. It was all I had left of home. I tied off my blanket as a way to carry the rest of my stuff, and tied it to Padfoot in a saddle-like arrangement. He hardly noticed. I carried my own backpack, TARDIS shaped, and still ingloriously heavy.

We followed the river. We walked, and walked. Sometimes when Padfoot was especially hyper we would run. My hair, well, I left it alone. There was really no reason to do anything to it. It's not like I had seen anyone in almost a year and a half. It wasn't likely that I would find them now.

That was my thought the morning it all went to shit.


	4. Chapter 4

We were camping when we heard it. Like thunder, but not the same. Padfoot jerked to attention, staring in the direction of the sound. I didn't bother with it, thinking it was actual thunder, perhaps echoing off mountains or something else I couldn't see yet. But when he started growling I snapped to attention, pulling out my bow and knocking an arrow. The only times he's growled have been when he perceived a threat. Since he got bigger he became worried by less. Whatever this was, I had a feeling I wouldn't like it.

It got closer and more sound joined it, I was finally able to identify what it was. Horses. Lots of them, moving fast. There might be a road near here. Unless it was wild horses, but I doubt they'd hang around here, doesn't seem like the right environment. I threw my hoodie on once again, slinging my quiver and backpack over it. I tapped Padfoot and he followed behind me, still growling, while I put on the hood. It wasn't long before it got too close to be ignored. We were surrounded before I realized the slight evenness of the dirt probably _was_ the road. I drank in the sight of other human being, examining them closely. Medieval. Leather clothing for all weather, swords in scabbards, scraggly long hair and beards.

The horses stopped, not going close to Padfoot. They looked at one another in silence before the one with the most white hair nudged his horse a few steps forward. His eyebrows were a bit on the bushy side, and they were raised at me. My muscles tensed, ready to draw and fire at a moment's notice. Then he opened his mouth.

"You are taking this cosplay stuff a little too far."

I dropped the bow. I'm not yet completely hardened by this sort of life. So I let the surprise rob me of my weapon. Well surprise and familiar words and accents.

"Cosplay?" Ohh, voice a bit scratchy, apparently I haven't been rambling at the dog enough. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Yeah, weren't you one of the ones who wandered off from the village a few miles away? We've been searching for the guys for a while, the van's coming soon to take 'em back to Juno."

...cosplay? Van? Juno? As in Alaska? But…

I kicked the arrow lying abandoned on the ground, swearing viciously, as I ripped the hood off.

"That bastard lied to me!"

The 'Truth', huh? Dirty rotten fucking liar…

The man's brow furrowed,

"Who lied to you? Are you alone here?"

I pointed to Padfoot, who hadn't stopped growling at the cosplayers.

"Just me and this guy."

The man rolled his eyes,

"Yeah, lovely guy ya got there. Anyway, I'm Kyle, this is Rick, Gordon is on the darker horse there on your left, with Juan to his right. And then of course there's Tommy boy, who stayed behind with the wagons a ways back. And you would be?"

I sagged a bit, beating myself up on the inside and pushing back furious tears. I stayed in the wilderness for a bit more than a year because a hallucination creature from an anime I hadn't seen in forever told me I was in another dimension and dropped me in some trees? Damnit I'm an _idiot_. I was too busy steaming to notice the one they called Gordon dismount his horse until he touched my shoulder. I immediately shied away from the contact, eyeing him warily. He was the youngest of the group, no grey hair at all, smile wide and bright, facial hair not nearly as bushy and overwhelming.

I took a step away from him, Padfoot getting between us.

"I'm Holly."

They didn't give a last name, so I wouldn't either.

Juan grinned,

"Ah, I get it. Holly berries are red, and so is your hair!"

I rolled my eyes,

"No. That...that isn't it. My grandmother was at Woodstock, if that tells you _anything_ about her. She got to choose."

That got a laugh from Kyle and Gordon, but the other two just stared at me blankly. I let it go, shifting nervously on my feet.

"Um, if you could just point me in the direction of this camp I'd be much obliged…"

Gordon, the creeptastic fuck, was close to me again.

"Why don't we just take you there?"

I took yet another step back, foot brushing the edge of the river.

"No, no, I could find it myself. As it is you have those other guys to find so they won't miss their van."

My mistake was thinking Gordon was the threat. I should have watched Rick. A cloth was pressed to my nose and I resisted breathing in, swatting backwards with my hands, trying to reach an arrow so I could stab him or something. Padfoots growls had turned to full grown furious barks. I saw him lunge at Gordon just before it all went dark.

When I woke up it was to the sound of a dog's whining, coming from a slight distance. I opened my eyes with difficulty, they felt filled with sandpaper, just like my throat. I tried to rub them, only to realize my hands were tied quite effectively behind my back. What. The actual. Fuck.

Any last trace of drowsiness was gone, and I scanned the room, finding Padfoot was also trussed up, muzzled and tied to a board of some kind. We hit a bump and I realized that I wasn't dizzy, we were actually moving, then again, maybe it was both. That wagon they mentioned was real then. I wasn't alone. There were several other females in the place, none actually dressed like I was, in clothes reminiscent of modern day civilization. All were in the types of dresses one would expect from the middle ages, though some were more rumpled than others. I struggled up into a sitting position, core muscles protesting. All the other women were looking at me strangely, though somes eyes darted from me to the dog, fear prevalent.

I thumped my head against the side of the wagon in frustration, ruffling my hair in the process and not particularly caring if I looked a bit demonic at the moment. I turned to the girl to my immediate right, she was wearing a plain brown dress, her hair also brown and hanging down past her waist. Her face was pale, her skin tone frustrating clear. I freckle stupidly because of this damn red hair. I raised an eyebrow at her,

"Any idea where we're headed?"

Her eyes went wide and she shrank away from me, bumping into the person on her other side. Most of them were avoiding me, and I found it a bit ridiculous. If this was the cosplay people then they were taking it too seriously. Then again, did I really believe this was cosplay? It was kind of in their favor that they actually spoke English and even knew the word 'cosplay'.

But what were they cosplaying? Was this just a renaissance fair that was getting a bit out of hand?

I struggled with the ropes for a bit, twisting and checking the tightness on the knot. Tight. Very much so. My circulatory system wasn't liking it. The twisting around was already starting to burn, and skin was most likely broken even this early on in the struggle. I sighed, hitting my head against the side of the wagon again, this time with less force, attempting to clear my mind a bit. There was a rustle and Padfoots tail thumped. I looked over at him and saw sad brown eyes. Shit, guilt trip. There was nothing I could do for him, but it still ached that I was sitting here without even trying.

I thought about kicking up a fuss, but drawing attention to myself was probably not wise at this point. We moved for what seemed like hours. There was no stopping until the sun had almost completely disappeared, but I'd woken at around noon so who knows how long we'd actually been moving. I could have been out for days, or only minutes, and it wasn't like these girls were going to give me details. Rick appeared when we stopped, dragging us out and guiding us toward the camp. I glared at Rick.

"What the hell is going on?"

There were more men around, not just the ones who had captured me. The new ones were the only ones who stiffened like the women had when I spoke. Perhaps that was against the rule or something.

I sneered at a familiar one,  
"This 'game' of yours has gone too far."

He grinned cheerfully,

"Oh, but it hasn't. There is no game."

I frowned at him, wondering for his sanity.

"What the hell are you talking about?"  
Gordon swanned up from beside the fire, spreading his arms to motion around us.

"We aren't cosplayers. It was a brilliant scheme to get you newbies to cooperate, but show's over now."

I scowled at him,

"What the fuck do you mean 'not cosplayers', you're camping in the woods and carrying swords."  
He smiled at me, eyes cold and never leaving mine when he spoke next. It was a random string of rough syllables that made no sense whatsoever. It would have solidified my thoughts about their sanity if one of the new men from by the fire hadn't answered in the same sort of pattern of speech.

My mind was already putting it together when Kyle approached. He unbuckled his sword from his belt, a great bejeweled thing that looked too heavy to be useful, and threw it down on a nearby patch of grass.

"Holly, we normally wouldn't do the cliche of explaining this all to you but it would be so much easier for us if you just gave in and accepted the truth."

He motioned at the four that had found me,

"We, are all that is left of those who fell through the worlds. All that fanfiction you probably read in all your teenage girliness, sometimes shit like that happens. You see, we fell into this world and found familiar geography, and terms, and races, like what we'd only read in books, or in most of our cases, saw in the movies or the games. But people kept falling through, less and less as time went on. But oh, they were ripe for the picking. Lost, naive, looking for any explanation for suddenly being somewhere else for no reason. But they all fall in the same stretch of forest at the same time of year, and they're oh so happy to accept anything we say, right up until they're sold for a profit."

What. The. Fuck.

"They're all so soft, and pampered, and _pretty_ compared to the people of this world because of the easy lives they lived back home. They fetch such a nice price. But they've tapered off over the years. We figured it was done for good and we'd have to settle for the normal slave trade, but lookie you, the golden goose coming along, our last off worlder. And such exotic coloring, too, and so petite, my we got lucky. The dog of yours is also going to be a lovely cash cow as well, exotic breeding, just like you. Perfect to sire a litter with whatever purebreds are popular these days."

I stayed silent for five full seconds, trying to comprehend everything. They were tricking others who fell through, killing them and selling them…

"It's funny actually."

He was laughing, _laughing_.

"The dog will probably last longer than you will. The softies have never survived more than a few months. Always trying to escape and have their adventure, or committing suicide because they just can't take it here. But who knows, I'm told redheads have quite the temper…"

The other people who knew English were giggling along with him, and any hope I had about finding others from home died. But that 'temper' didn't fail me.

"YOU ABSOLUTE CUNT WAGONS! TRAITORS! HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELVES _CIVILIZED HUMANS_! HOW DARE YOU DO THESE THINGS TO OTHER LIVING BEINGS! YOU FILTHY-"

I was cut off with a sharp slap to the face, snapping my head viciously to the right. The other women shrank away from us, and the men scowled at him, probably for marking up the 'merchandise' those bastards. It was going to bruise, I could feel it, already throbbing.

"Now now, don't be that way, Holly dear."

I snarled viciously, doing a pretty decent impression of Padfoot in my opinion.

"You don't deserve for my behavior to be cordial you slimy bastards."

He tried to put his hand near me again so I spat on his shoes.

He grimaced, taking a step back from me, looking disgusted.

"Just try to get your beauty rest. If you attract a rich enough buyer then your last few weeks will be spent in relative comfort."

The men laughed around the fire, eating and drinking while the sun sank lower into the sky. I thought about protesting loudly and kicking up a fuss, but then I would end up getting hit again, and no one could even tell what I was saying. I couldn't bargain with any of the other men, and the ones that brought me in were too far gone to really consider. They had been selling out their countrymen for years for crying out fucking loud.

I worked at the ropes constantly, scooting surreptitiously closer to Padfoot. I worked my fingers through his fur, attempting to loosen his knots as well. If I could get that damned muzzle off then perhaps he could be convinced to chew through _my_ ropes, yeah, that wouldn't fucking happen. He might drool though, and perhaps I could slip them off...Yeah, that wasn't happening either. Too tight, even with barrels and barrels of drool.

I groaned, burying my face into his fur. This is entirely too ridiculous of a situation to be in. I should have stayed put. Or moved sooner, or at any other time but when I did. Because my timing was absolute shit. I was moping, so I almost missed it. But Padfoot didn't. He'd quieted down when I got close to him. But now the growling was back. There, movement in the trees, the smoke from the campfire was heading straight up into the sky...so there was no wind. Something was here.

 **~TimeLordOfPie**


	5. Chapter 5

I didn't move when I saw them in the trees. Men armed with farm tools, wearing rough clothing and covered in dirt and dust from the road. I just examined them. When one realized he had been seen he froze, and started mouthing something at me. He was relatively young, no facial hair, brown hair tied back from his face. I looked away from him, glancing around the camp. No one was paying any attention to us. So I kicked the closest female. She turned to glare at me before she realized who I was, then she shrank away. I rolled my eyes, jerking my chin in the direction of the young man. I didn't know what language he was trying to communicate in, but she probably did. She slowly drug her eyes away from me, turning them in the direction I had indicated. When she saw the man she froze, shock and hope playing across her features, before the fear was back and she was glancing around the camp.

When she looked back at the young man they had a mouthed argument that soon escalated into dramatic gestures and mimed pleading. The young man was miming talking, then pointing to the men around the fire. It took me a while, the woman was refusing, looking afraid. She knew what he was saying, she just didn't want to be bait. But if it was a distraction they needed, then I could provide. I kicked the woman lightly, ignoring her, but letting the action draw the boys attention to me. I mimed talking using my hands, turned so he could see where they were tied, then pointed to the men, then to me. He nodded vigorously, looking relieved. I made a questioning look, tapping my foot once, pause, twice quickly, pause, three times, pause, then shrugging. I thanked god he got what I meant because he held up ten fingers. Ten minutes then. I nodded grinning widely before motioning him to shoo, wanting him out of sight once they looked my way. He must have understood because he ducked out of sight immediately.

I shuffled a bit, turning that wide grin to the woman next to me and winking. She just looked confused so I rolled my eyes and turned back to the men by the fire. The young man looked like a male version of the woman beside me. Siblings at worst, twins being most likely. The women must be from the village they mentioned to me. Kyle probably assumed that's where I went first, and assumed I already knew the world around me was medieval. The women were taken, and now the men were out for blood. I can work with that. Unless the brother joined some bandits to get his sister back, but since they _all_ had farm utensils it seemed unlikely.

I scooted a bit further away from her, not wanting any of them to get caught in the crossfire. I was thrilled slightly at being _told_ to annoy the piss out of people. Well, not in those exact words, but close enough. I cleared my throat loudly, getting no attention from the men at the fire. Well then. I sighed,

"So, cunt wagons, how does it feel to know your mother would be ashamed of what you're doing with your lives?"  
Yeah, I'm playing dirty, bringing their mothers into this, and so early in the game at that. But it was true in any case.

They were attempting to ignore me, so I raised my voice,

"What, you bitches don't think they would have _approved_ , do you? Psh, with the knowledge you have from even first through third grade you could do some basic math and blow these people's fucking minds. You could have used the history of our world to spin such amazing legends and stories, you could have used basic chemistry to be worshiped as gods! But you're so phenomenally _stupid_ that you automatically just started going against the law because it was so much _easier_ here than it was back home! You _gave up_! You took the _easy_ way!"

By now the ones who could understand me were twitching, but the ones who didn't actually looked annoyed. Well, to them it was just nonsense, just noise. One of them muttered something, so Kyle stood, stalking closer to me. I knew he was probably going to fall back on tried and true methods to shut me up. But I had to keep it up. Otherwise the escape might fail, and where would I be then? But instead of slapping me again he placed a heavy booted kick straight to my ribs, knocking the breath out of me, cutting my expletives off mid word, and causing me to fall over. Padfoots growling increased, and I nudged him gently with my toe, hoping he would get the message that I was okay, mostly.

Kyle looked satisfied and turned, saying something to the men that had them chuckle briefly. I coughed and spluttered for a second, but when I had my breath back I struggled back up into a sitting position, and started again, ignoring how things twinged when I moved.

"Go bathe in an ocean of radioactive waste you deplorable bitch! I think your mother must have mated with a dementor to bring someone so soul suckingly boring into existence! Or perhaps he was a particularly nasty troll, because you, you absolute twatfungus, are the most vile thing to ever walk among human beings, and I do believe that your-"  
Another vicious kick hit my legs this time, and I resisted the urge to suck in breath or react anymore than raising an eyebrow at him as he started to walk away, thinking it was solved.

"Oh, leaving so soon? I was about to poison the tea. But then again, personality like yours, hello kitty would have even said bye, so don't let the door slam onto your fat ass on the way-"

Aaaand he was back,

"Don't speak to me that way, you're just digging that grave of yours deeper! Frankly I don't care how good of a place you're sold to, and it doesn't matter how marked you are to me!"

"Oh shut up, you'll never be the man your mother was!"

Another vicious kick,

"I've seen decomposing bodies less offensive looking than you!"

A punch to the shoulder, sending me spinning. I used my elbow to shift me so I could sit up again,

"I'm so sorry that you seem to have entered this battle of wits unarmed, but that doesn't mean you should take it out using violence, after all you shouldn't be thinking anyway, it might sprain your brain."

By the time I could speak again only four minutes had passed in my time to use to distract them. The ones who didn't speak my language were watching with interest, and of the ones that could some looked angry for Kyle's sake, others were holding in laughter, Gordon was taking notes.

Ohhh, dissent in the ranks.

"How did you even get to be leader of these guys, anyway? Did they have a stupid contest and you won by default?"  
Not my best, but I might have a concussion, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

My ankle was burning after that last bit, but time wasn't even near up.

"I mean, why not have one of the younger guys take over, pops? You're so old your memory is probably even in black and white."

A particularly savage hit for that one, oooh, a sore spot.

"What, protest for that one? Admit it, you're so old all the candles on your birthday cake raised the temperature of the planet by three degrees all around."

I spat out blood after the next one, wishing I could rub my jaw to check the damage. I used my tongue to take a quick count, and was just grateful that none of my teeth had been knocked loose. He was probably wary of that, our teeth might be a selling feature, all pearly white, solid enamel, healthy from lifetimes of dentists visits. I always hated the dentist, but Terese was always so insistent... My mind was wandering and I forced myself back into the present, their attention was straying from me as well, and I can't have that, three, maybe four minutes to go. I'd lost count.

"My, my, Kyle, same reaction to everything, perhaps I was wrong about your parents, they weren't sibling, where they? Because you're at least one Brady short of a bunch and that would explain it."

I ended up face first in the dirt, his boot on the small of my back. There was a strange scraping sound, and the men around the fire started talking quickly, loudly, slightly alarmed. I wondered if the attack had started, but no, there was something cold pressed up against the back of my neck. Oh, it was Kyle's sword then. They must not like that he was going to kill the goods. Eep.

"Now, now, there, no need for that. How about you go relax, slip into something more comfortable...like a coma."

He growled, low in his throat, pressing the tip closer to my neck, I think he was drawing blood at that point.

"Shut up, you bitch. I've had about all I can take of your mouth. I don't think the price is worth carrying your worthless carcass all the way to the-"

Battle cries from the far edge of the camp, thank god. The sword was removed as Kyle turned to help and I kicked out with my feet, catching his ankles and sending him crashing down into the dirt. Fuck, that hurt my ankle, and my legs, and everything else, but still, he was face first on the ground, struggling to get up while the men armed with farm tools got closer. He took a pitchfork to the back, and Kyle moved no more.

I resisted the urge to puke, looking into blank eyes. I beat down a hysteric laugh, a hunger games moment. What was it, 'he wasn't much, but he was from home?' Sounds about right…These guys weren't much, but they were my only hope of translations or getting my references. Dammit, and my last one had been the _Brady Bunch_ for crying out freaking loud. But none of that changed the fact that he was dead, and it was my fault, but he was a bad person, but he was dead, and he was gone, but he was-

I was being untied, and I nearly reacted violently until I realized it was that same youth who had been communicating with us through the trees. He was rambling something to me but I shook my head,

"Yeah, no hablo, buddy."

He tried again, but got the same response. I didn't bother to watch as he ran off somewhere, probably to his sister. I was more focused on freeing Padfoot and massaging his poor paws. That muzzle went quickly and he automatically began smoothing slobber all over the bruises of my face.

I murmured nonsense to him, carding my fingers through his fur as much as possible while he ran a few circles around me, enjoying his freedom. After a second of resting my aching limbs I used Padfoot to help me stand, walking over to where I could see my bag and weapon piled haphazardly with all of the men's things. I fished out my bag, setting it to the side and grabbing my bow, which the bastards hadn't unstrung. That was terrible for a bow, and I resisted the urge to kick one of them, the thought brought a little vindication to the vindictive part of me, but all other parts felt a little sick at the thought. My 'blanket' and 'cape' that had been holding various other materials for survival had been scattered and I didn't bother trying to gather them all together.

None of the dead men had been an archer, and I was sort of thankful for that. I would have taken it because it was needed, but I would have felt terrible the whole time because it was a dead man's weapon.

I put my bag on, quiver over it like usual, wincing as it pressed on all my new bruises. But I wasn't being sold to the slave trade, so it was mostly worth it. I absentmindedly brushed some hair out of my eyes and let a huff of air free in surprise at the pain it sent shooting through my cheek. Yeah, that was going to bruise spectacularly. I saw Padfoot over in a corner of the camp, giving his love and devotion to the guy who had untied me, and gave a sharp whistle that had him careening across the camp to me, tail wagging wildly. I waved to the young man, about to be on my way. Dark as it was I would rather get moving, now that I knew there were people I could either seek some out or avoid them as much as possible.

But the man yelled something, rushing over to me, hands up and waving around at various things. I let him ramble, staring at him blankly and waiting for him to realize that I wasn't comprehending anything.

Finally he stopped, pointing to himself.

"Kodran."

Oh, if that's his name then poor, poor kid. I pointed to myself,

"Holly."

Then, because he was all over our business I pointed to the dog as well,

"Padfoot."

After much miming, waving of hands, and whispered conversations I wasn't apart of I realized I was being offered food and use of the camp. How nice of them. One of the women had even approached me, motioning to my bruised face. I'd waved her off, trying to mime 'thanks but no thanks' and feeling like I'd had little success. Finally a bowl of a real stew was shoved into my hand as well as a wooden spoon and I was shown to a place to sleep.

It was separated enough from everyone that I felt comfortable cleaning and awkwardly wrapping my wounds with the supplies a brown eyed, shy girl had given to me before running back to what looked like her father.

I didn't particularly trust these people, but this was the first actual food I'd had in about a year and a half. There were carrots and seasoning along with venison and I nearly cried at that first bite of heaven, and the medical supplies was invaluable. When the men gave the scraps to Padfoot and he promptly fell asleep beside where I was sitting it was decided for me. It's not like I could pick him up and carry him like old times. And I didn't want to wake him, he'd had a pretty bad day, too.

So I set out my fur blanket on the ground, deer side down, and used my cape as a blanket, curling up next to Padfoot. I was exhausted but sleep didn't come easily. When I finally managed to doze I was met with accusations of murder, and calls for damnation. Not a happy night. But I was free, and alive. But I was now totally alone. The last to come through to this dimension from my own, and all that was left of those that came before me. Hurrah.

 **~TimeLordOfPie**


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning I woke when the people started moving around the camp. I ducked out to do my business let Padfoot wander around to do his, and get his early morning stretch in. I took the time I was out of sight of other people to check the bandage job I'd fumbled in the dark the night before, fixing things as best I could with what I had. When I came back they were passing around yet more food, and some type of bread. I ate it quickly, thrilled to have something even remotely bread like again. After so long of only meat and the occasional edible plant I recognized this variety as heaven. When I finished eating I stood, dusting off my pants, ready to leave. But when I went to gather my things one of the men was already loading it onto the wagon with the supplies and some of the women. I raised an eyebrow at him, starting a staredown. Apparently they have those here because he complied, staring right back at me. I didn't know what they wanted from me. For all I knew they saw my short hair and assumed I was a whore of some sort, a body for hire. Not on your life.

They hadn't tried to tie me up, they had freed me, fed me, and were nice to my dog. Yes, I think I can deal with them. At the very least I could escape if need be. If they wanted something from me or were too much to deal with I could always leave. As it was I wasn't actually ready to leave behind human companionship.

I eventually blinked, making it deliberate, and turned to find Padfoot, letting out a high pitched whistle that had him streaking towards me. I leaned against the side of the wagon, making it obvious that I wasn't leaving them. They attempted to get me to sit in the wagon, but I refused, holding onto Padfoots collar, and eventually they figured I wanted to walk with him. This was somewhat true. I really just didn't want to feel trapped in a damn wagon again, if those other girls could handle it then all power to them.

We moved for most of the day at a pretty good pace, some of the men going on ahead of the wagon, probably to tell everyone else the rest were on the way. It took almost all of the day, and I would have been confused over the time crunch if we had actually gone back over wagon tracks. The slavers must have taken a different route to throw people off their trail, as much good as that did them in the end. We arrived at a collection of wooden buildings, a small village straight out of a medieval movie, and their farms around nightfall. The wagon was unloaded in the center of the town, families had tearful reunions and the supplies taken from the slavers was distributed between the families of the men who had chased after them and a few that were looking a bit on the skinny side to me.

My attention was captured by one of the oldest of the women who had been with us, _maybe_ in her mid twenties. She reached gently for my hand and half dragged me to one of the buildings. Sign with writing I can't read, bar in the bottom floor, several stories, yeah, probably the local inn. I took note of the script, blockish with a vaguely Russian feel, for all the three semesters of Russian language classes made me an 'expert'. She spoke to the man at the counter, speaking rapidly, gesturing with her hands, a smile on her face. When she finished the innkeeper nodded, smallish pale green eyes and greying hair that curled every which way, he was a bit on the pudgy side, but from appearances seemed friendly enough.

The woman pointed to me and said some very fast things, and I barely caught my name in there somewhere. The innkeeper guy just nodded along and when she stopped he turned to me and pointed to himself,

"Oswyn."

I pointed to myself,

"Holly."

I then pointed at Padfoot, who was sitting beside me with his tongue lolling out, a doggie grin on his furry muzzle.

"Padfoot."

He glanced down at the dog, looking unsure for a second before pointing up to the stairs and saying something to the woman. She grabbed my wrist and I pulled away, unsure how I was supposed to pay for this room they were giving me. I pointed to a bag of what appeared to be coins, shrugged, and pulled out the lining of my pockets before shrugging again. Oswyn shrugged himself before waving his hand wildly, pointing to the woman, and then to the stairs. Okaaay, is she paying then? Answers weren't coming soon so I followed the woman upstairs, the dog following. No one tried to stop either me, or him, and I wasn't worried about him having any accidents. I'd taught him long ago about doing that anywhere near where we were camping. Hopefully he would wake me with a whine like usual so he wouldn't have to go alone.

I slept in a real bed that night. It was brilliant. I missed it so much, that whole thing about it being too soft, and not being able to sleep? Bullshit in my case. It was a medieval bed in an ancient inn. It wasn't too much better than the ground, but I still saw it as Nirvana. Padfoot slept beside me, like always, heating the bed quite nicely. He did indeed whine to wake me, and for the first time in a very long time I broke out the hoodie string and tied it to his collar, leading him outside in the predawn light. He tried to stop in the main room, but that was what the leash was for.

When we got back inside Oswyn was already behind the bar, serving customers. The woman from yesterday was also inside waiting for me. She took my wrist once again, dragging me outside once more. Padfoot followed, right up until he saw a bunch of children running around. I gave him a good scratch and a slight push in their direction and it was all he needed. He was bred to herd animals and be gentle with them. Children were right up his alley. And he was right up theirs, gentle giant with stupid amounts of soft fuzzy-ness.

What the woman lead me to was a bathing area. There were already women there bathing, and some over to the side washing clothes. I had to wonder how sanitary it was, but hey, they had soap. After being away from human contact for about a year and a half I wasn't exactly sure where I stood in the shyness range. The woman made to grab the edge of my hoodie and I resisted, taking a step back and clutching onto it. She seemed to realize I was a bit attached so she smiled softly, pointing over to where the clothes were being washed. Well, I suppose I can live with them being properly cleaned. And me as well.

I stripped, still aching dully from the beating I took. The water showed that the bruising on my face was very much visible. My clothes were whisked away and I waited uncomfortably while the women nearby flocked to me in order to gasp over my injuries, and new bandages were provided as well as some sort of funky smelling paste I could only hope would stave off infection. I was handed soap by one of the older ones, her grey hair braided and tightly bound close to her head. It smelled a bit earthy, but that was better than nothing, and definitely more pleasant smelling than the infection-be-gone paste. I emerged from the water feeling clean, even though my injuries were stinging. One of the women held up a dress with a smile, it was a dark brown, like most of the dresses the women wore and I stared at it, then at them with a deadpan expression before pointing to my pants where they hung with the rest of the clothes drying by the river. The women had already cooed over the strange stitching and symbols on my clothing, probably taking notes or coming up with ideas about what kind of place I came from. The woman who had drug me to the water looked smug and handed over a different set of clothing. Boys pants and a tunic thing. Both were a bland brown but I grinned at the woman, putting them on quickly and ruffling my hair once more with the towel I was given.

That changed where the women were focusing pretty quickly. Their hands were in it before I could blink, talking amongst each other and making vague motions that I didn't understand in the least. I blanked them out after a while, looking around for my shoes. They were wet too of course. Someone must have noticed me staring at them kind of sadly because a pair of soft leather boots were shoved into my hands. I plopped down on a dry patch of grass to pull them on, wishing my socks were already dry. Someone who picked out the clothes must be a parent or older sibling because they managed to eyeball my size pretty accurately.

When they left me alone long enough to slip away I headed back to the inn, seeing Padfoot gallivanting in the distance. When I went back inside I was met with a large crowd, clamoring for food. Owyn was the only one there, and I had to wonder how he could have stayed in business if this is how it always was. He was cooking in the back and immediately running it out, serving drinks, giving people rooms, and then ducking back into the kitchen.

With a motioning of hands, and a little too much foolish goodwill I was set to work carrying food to whoever he pointed to.

Well, at least I was earning my keep.

As it turns out things were not, in fact, always like that. The woman who had showed me to the inn originally, whose name turned out to be Lisbet, was usually the one who handled things but was given a day off due to her recent trauma. Once she was 'recovered' she went right back to work, leaving me with nothing at all to do. I communicated mainly with hand motions and exaggerated facial expressions, and Lisbet was one of the few who didn't laugh when I attempted to join the small group of hunters who gathered some mornings to bring in game for both meat and furs, though whatever she said to try and comfort me felt a bit condescending, even through the language barrier.

I'll admit that the men had several advantages over me, not the least of which being size, experience, and knowledge of the land surrounding the village, but I had my own advantages. Namely Padfoot and nothing else at all to do with my time. The others had families to look after and responsibilities to get back to. My only family was one and the same with my one responsibility, and feeding Padfoot would depend on catching something to eat anyway. As for Padfoot, he had long ago learned several commands involving tracking and herding, the latter of which was what he was born and bred to do anyway, though it felt strange to be perverting what was meant to be used as caring and nurturing technique to instead trap and kill.

The main difference between hunting for only myself and my dog out in the middle of nowhere, and hunting for trade in the village, was that instead of feeding myself and the dog with whatever I could possibly find, I had to worry about what would sell, and get as much of it as possible with no worry as to it spoiling. Here there were ways to treat it so that it would last, and if I didn't want to do that then I could give it to Owyn in exchange for letting me stay there. The room I'd been given was directly facing the stables, with a defective window latch, so it wasn't exactly prime real estate anyway, which is probably why such little fuss was given to my lack of funds in the first place.

The first time that I left the village for almost a week to track a particularly fat buck I returned to mixed reactions. On the more pleasant side was Lisbet, who had apparently become as attached to my company as I was to hers because she threw a pseudo sign language fit to let me know her displeasure with my disappearance. On the other, less pleasant side, was Wymark. Wymark was a jeweler whose daughter had been killed at some point during the abduction because of a scuffle of some sort, from what I gathered, and he linked her death to my 'kin'. In his eyes I was very much to blame for her death because it was my people who had done it, or perhaps because I hadn't done something before she had died. I couldn't be sure, I didn't have any direct way to understand what people tried to tell me about him, or to make sense of his drunken ramblings when he lost himself to drink in the middle of inn dining room, but I understood enough.

When I returned unharmed and carrying on business as always Wymark threw a fit of legend, and I got the feeling that it was meant to get me thrown out of town. A man known as Halldor, who seemed to me to be more or less in charge of this place, put his foot down, and the shouting stopped. I would've given a few toes to know what was said. After that it stuck in my mind that Halldor was a good person to be on the good side of, so I visited his business often to spend my hard earned, meager, share of gold. It wasn't difficult to find a reason to shop there, seeing as he had an entire wall of archery equipment. I was able to trade a small pile of gold and a particularly soft and fluffy rabbit for a new bow. What was special about the rabbit was that it was still alive, and very very young. His daughter was absolutely thrilled with it. What was special about the bow was that it was properly made, unlike my original.

It took uncountable weeks of practice to get used to the new bow, though I was almost giddy with excitement when I drew back the string and it went smoothly, and I felt the need to grin every time I released it to have decent force and a slight hiss fill the air, rather than the 'shaking-laminated-paper-fwub-fwub-fwub' sound that my previous bowstring had made upon each release by the end of the day. I was able to learn things hanging around his shop, such as how to properly make arrows. It was a wonder I hadn't been laughed at _more_ with what they saw of what I'd been carrying around before. Apparently I'd only been surviving this long on pure enthusiasm. I also splurged on a new, properly made, quiver, as well as some decent clothes that fit this time period. Well, male clothes that fit this time period.

I respected that they lived like that, and I wasn't going to start some sort of feminine revolution, this world probably wasn't ready for that anyway, and this wasn't some 'I am equal to men and I refuse to be forced to conform' sort of thing, no. I simply felt uncomfortable in a dress most days seeing as I was running around among the tree chasing animals or something, should skirts get caught they'd be ruined, or I'd get tangled or break an ankle. If I was going to be hanging around town with Lisbet and helping people with washing or something then I would wear a dress. Sometimes with leggings underneath, sometimes not. It depended on what I was going to be doing. Whenever I had to do something in Wymarks part of town I was a model citizen, though that didn't help anything.

My wounds from the incident with the slavers healed up rather nicely, with only one of them scarring. There was a jagged line streaking from my ninth to my fourth rib on my right side. It was a half an inch thick stripe of white, hardened skin, that throbbed when the weather did anything funny. But hey, at least there was no internal damage or something. The stitches had been some of the worst pain in my life, and the woman doing them had looked like she wanted to cry with me. But all in all, it could've been worse. For most the incident faded from memory almost as quickly as my bruises did, though not so much for Lisbet. She worked with me on my language skills, walking me around town and immersing me in the world and the words, taking me under her wing as much as she possibly could. I ate dinner at the inn with her when she was on break every night that I spent in the village, Padfoot under our feet and begging for scraps that she snuck to him under the table. I never mentioned I didn't mind, it was too amusing watching her attempt to be secretive.

I'm sure it was almost entirely due to Lisbet's dedication that I was able to make myself understood to traders, and that I could understand them in return, after what I reckoned to be about five months. Words I didn't understand, I asked about. I threw my pride out the window, because fuck it, gotta learn. It was better to look stupid one moment than to spend a lifetime looking like an idiot for misusing a simple word or fudging grammar. Sometimes there would be extreme difficulty with explaining words, so they would be left by the wayside and then shouted at a random moment whenever the perfect example showed itself. One such incident happened at the market one day, where I was speaking haltingly with a man who was, surprisingly, slightly shorter than I was, about a knife of decent size and make.

He was explaining something about the heat treatment with great enthusiasm, thrilled to have an attentive audience, one hand switching between motioning with his words and dragging a hand through his considerate amount of dark black facial hair, and the other petting Padfoot _just right_ behind the ears. As he was pausing to clarify a particular term for me Lisbet appeared at my shoulder, triumphant, pointing to him and practically shouting a word that had been shelved a while ago. I had been so sure it was a simile for short, or small, but she was adamant it wasn't. The man was giving her a blank look and she turned a brilliant shade of red before speaking to him quickly enough I couldn't understand most of the words, but it was obvious she was trying to convey our system of random vocabulary lessons.

What followed that was a very long discussion with 'Krumran', whose fathers name was apparently Fremran, about a glorious people who lived in mountains and were the best fighters/metal workers/miners/musicians/poets/heroes who ever existed. It took me another two months, and a visit where he returned with more short, bearded, people, for me to realize they were _dwarves_. In my defence, one doesn't always jump to the conclusion of a semi-mythical race of people who dwell _inside_ mountains in most legends. It certainly jived with what Kyle had been going on about. This was some sort of alternate reality with magic and shit of course. It was better than Dinosaurs and shit, I suppose, but I couldn't exactly trust anything because of what I knew from home, either. For all I knew in this reality Dwarves had the secret ability to suck your soul out dementor style, and were capable of turning into moles when there was digging to be done.

But since Padfoot had dubbed Krumran his absolute best friend ever, with the exception of myself and Lisbet of course, there was no avoiding him. To be perfectly honest I didn't want to. I needed to exercise a certain amount of caution, true, but I would do that with any stranger anywhere. To be extra careful because he was a dwarf would be a bit...is racist the right word even? Speciest? In any case, Krumran was well traveled, and through him I heard all sorts of tales and stories. Some tickled memories in the back of my mind, and others bore no resemblance to legends I'd heard in another world.

I turned nineteen with this new language at functional level of proficiency, a dog who loved the stuffing out of me, a best friend who put up with my language struggles, and a good friend who was well over a century old. It was a brave new world and depression was finding it harder to get a hold on me, though it certainly tried in the form of hissed insults and glares across rooms and streets. Wymark was coldly, quietly furious, and he wasn't completely alone.

 **~TimeLordOfPie**


	7. Chapter 7

Padfoot and I were after a doe, and normally it would be a difficult chase what with me dodging the dog, and the dog trying to chase it away. However after months of herding small children around the village his breed's natural proclivity for herding things had woken up full force, and our clumsy efforts of before were much more streamlined. Now he was herding the deer, right towards me with no illusions that this may be a game.

A slow breath out, quick draw, rapid release, and we were one deer richer. Being raised almost completely on a hearty diet of meat with plenty of exercise available Padfoot was on the upper end of size for his breed, this lead to him being a good six feet tall on his hind legs. On all fours he made the perfect pack mule. I could tie my supplies to him, but the deer would have drug the ground and gotten tangled in his legs, so it was my job, though the dragging part still rang true, but two legs were easier to keep track of than four. I stumbled into town with it, dropping it off at Ian's house, and made my way to the inn.

I waded through the crowd and almost changed my mind about speaking to Lisbet, the amount of free time she had dramatically decreased near meal times, and these people decided to have made the middle of the evening their prefered time to eat today. I couldn't even find a seat, and Lisbet's gentle voice startled me from behind as I searched,

"Krumran is back."

She grinned at the way I jumped, moving quickly to the table she'd been headed for before spotting me, and I took that as a dismissal, fighting my way back out of the Inn. After a few hacking coughs to get used to air after the smoky atmosphere of the inside I whistled for Padfoot. When he didn't' appear for several seconds I whistled again. Still nothing. I sighed, heading for the part of the market Krumran tended to frequent. It was likely the dog had beat me there anyway. I could see the giant ball of fluff in the distance as I got closer, dodging through the crowds with a dark brown blur.

Krumran made a business of trading small trinkets he could carry on his person whilst performing the duties of a go-between of some sort. It seemed to be common wherever the hell I was, where a third party would travel between towns to conduct negotiations. It seemed they trusted no one other than a dwarf to keep blacksmiths honest. I wasn't sure what could have brought him to town this time, I was just glad he was here. During his last visit, right at the year mark of my arrival to the village, he'd alluded to the fact he may be returning home, wherever that may be, once business was done. The fact that I could see his favorite maroon traveling tunic showing made me think he was wrapping things up here for good.

It felt like someone hit me with a hammer for a few seconds before I shook it off, he had a life of his own, he wasn't going to stick to this corner of the world for long, I'd known that even before I'd made friends with him, or even realized what _species_ he was. Still, it hurt to know that one of the few people I enjoyed speaking with regularly was no longer going to be in my life. The thought was so incredibly foreign, where for all of my life going 'away' didn't mean 'no contact'. Even with my mother on mission trips to foreign countries entire continents away we would get phone calls and hear her voice, and towards the end of her life Skype became a thing and we could _see_ her no matter the distance. Unless there was magic mirror tech lying around somewhere this visit would likely be the last time I ever saw my friend. A year wasn't the longest I'd had a friend, but in this place it seemed both the blink of an eye and an eternity all at once.

I tried to drink in the sight of him, as I got closer, committing him to memory, the first non-human intelligent creature I'd met, a dream for every fantasy nerd, or a worst fear depending on your specific brand of poison, I suppose. Krumran was a few inches shorter than me but broader, seemingly made up entirely of muscle with a rather wide and prominent nose, small wrinkles found here and there along his face though there wasn't a hint of grey in his dark hair. His hair was long, of course, and very thick, braided on either side of his head then on into his beard in such a way it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. There were ornaments and beads braided in that I hadn't really paid much attention to but now I wished to know the story and significance behind each and every one of them, though god knows if he'd ever tell me, dwarvish secrecy being what it is.

Remarkably enough the _dwarf_ noticed me first, rather than the dog. He waved, his grin only visible through his beard from the bright flash of white signaling a brief glimpse of teeth, calling out,

"There you are! I had wondered how he got away from you. Halldor said you were out on a hunt, I'm glad you made it back early."

I scoffed, catching up to walk at his side as he waded through the crowded market.

"Please, you know Halldor adds at least three days onto his estimate of my time because I'm female."

I saw the hint of a smile before he was turning away to look at some vendors wares, but his voice still reached me,

"Your speaking is getting better. I daresay I'm almost impressed with your progress."

I preened under the compliment, clicking my tongue to keep Padfoot from attempting to make friends with a sour faced man who was counting coins with an intense look of concentration. Elbowing the dwarf lightly to get his attention I jerked my chin at the bag on his back,

"Did you ever sell the piece you brought from home?"

It was the knife he'd spent hours explaining to me, slightly longer than the hunting knife I'd gotten in week one of my stay here, and exponentially nicer. The price had put me off from it, and everyone else as well. No one wanted to touch the thing, though the delicate leaf design, a step away from the usual dwarven style, kept me asking about it every time I saw him. The stones set in red to imitate berries reminded me too much of my namesake for me to let it go, though they no doubt called it something entirely different here, if they even had it anywhere.

Just as I had hoped he shook his head, scowling,

"Of course not, no one here has the proper appreciation for dwarven craft. Oh, they'll take our advice and attempt to suss out our secrets, but when it comes for them to spend _gold_ suddenly they're not sure if we know our hammers from our-"

Before he could finish what was no doubt an amusing rant someone motioned him over, and I could see they immediately got into an argument over something or another. I resisted the urge to get out my coins and count them once more, I knew I had enough, barely enough, but enough. I'd saved for an entire year, my priorities going kind of funny for most of it. I only had one decent pair of socks now, and I couldn't remember the last time I bought a vegetable, but damnit I wanted that knife. When he'd skipped town early last time I'd been worried that I'd saved for nothing, and that I'd leave him with yet another greedy human who refused to buy dwarf wares. For all that I spent a long time following him around I had never bought anything from him.

When he finally returned to my side, I interrupted whatever he was complaining about involving the shopkeeper, I couldn't understand half of it from how he was cursing so much in his own language anyway. Pulling him to a quiet corner between two near deserted stalls got his attention and he lowered his voice, concern tinging it,

"Is Wymark causing trouble again?"

I rolled my eyes, momentarily distracted, swiping my hair out of my face and keeping half my mind on where Padfoot was wandering.

"He's always causing trouble, but this isn't about him. You still want the same price for that knife?"

The dwarf didn't even finish nodding before I had pulled out the coin purse, beaming triumphantly. I pulled it open, still keeping half an eye on Padfoot and sifting through the coins to pull out the few that went over the price of the knife. I took a second to be grateful tax wasn't a thing in this moment and stuffed the few coins into my pocket and holding the entire bag out to him.

"Here, just keep the bag, I'm not going to force you to carry that much loose."

Krumran just eyed the bag as if it were a snake and I wilted a bit,

"Count it if you like, I checked three times, it's the right amount."

"...you carry that much gold on your person? You do know that it's _dwarven_ stereotyping to do that, not strange daughter of man?"

I huffed, holding the bag out closer to him and whistling at Padfoot distractedly, he should really know better than to sniff _him_ , the cruel old fart.

"I can't leave it in my room, the window latch is defective and Wymark has friends who aren't afraid to scale the inn. Now are you going to take the gold or not?"  
I could see him hesitating, and I couldn't be entirely sure why, so ignored what was polite and asked.

"Why?"

He didn't need clarification, sighing heavily and eyeing me from under thick, caterpillar eyebrows.

"I was tasked with selling the knife because my people have fallen on hard times, and yet I could say the same for you. Thin, young, _alone_ somewhere obviously far from home. How could I justify taking money from a friend who is also so obviously in need?"

I snorted,

"If that's all that's troubling you. I don't need gold. I survived on my own in the wild without it for far longer than I've lived with it." True, we used a cotton fiber 'paper' money back home. "Besides, it would only be _taking_ the money if I was shaken down for it or something, I'm convinced that knife of yours is worth ten times this, so if anything I'm the one 'taking' in this equation."

He huffed,

"Please, you didn't even try to barter for it!"

"Argue with a dwarf over the value of his own wares? I'm young, not impaired."

He snorted, eyes finally lightening and a smile shining from under his beard. He pulled out the knife, small decorations along the hilt gleaming in the light filtering through the cracks between the buildings around us.

"It's a pretty thing, but it will hold no matter what you put it through. Do you remember what I told you about it, that day we first met when your friend shouted my race in front of all and sundry?"  
I grinned at him, laughing a I nodded,

"Of course, how could I forget. Metal folded in on itself as it was heated. My vocabulary wasn't up to it at the time to really contribute to the conversation, but it reminded me of the way ancient warriors from my home would have their weapons forged."

Now I have no Japanese ancestry at all, as far as I'm aware, but 'from home' to me includes the entire planet that I originated from, so I was claiming the Samurai damnit. I'd put a pin in that conversation back when I couldn't communicate more than the most basic of principles and ideas, and now that he'd reminded me I spilled as much of the history and as many stories as I could remember. We relocated to the pub, still speaking about it, with the knife tucked into a plain leather sheath and hidden on my person. As fascinated as he was by the stories and theories I was throwing his way I knew that he'd noticed how I'd changed the subject from the hard times myself and his people were going through. It was his nature to let it go, to let it go and allow me to pretend that everything was okay, and I was counting on that.

For the rest of the night we bantered and exchanged stories and metalworking theories, though the latter came mostly from bare facts of history and science I'd read in my scholastic career. It was amazing the seemingly useless facts that had stuck in my head, both to me and to Krumran himself. Lisbet stopped by several times to refill our drinks and chat, changing the direction of the conversation she left each time. Nights like that were my favorite, and I had so few to hold onto given how long it had taken me to pick up an entirely new language. There was a small vein of self-pity to my thoughts as I went to bed that night, easily ignored when Padfoot snuggled in close to me and huffed so cutely in his sleep. We'd get over one of our friends heading home, we'd have to.

Of course after the wonderful evening we had murphy's law had to come to life and bit us in the ass. Or, well, me. My ass. Said ass was parked peacefully in a chair at the inn, some of my last few coins spent on this place's version of a fluffy breakfast pastry and a cup of coffee. I was enjoying the quiet that came before the lunch rush and slightly after the 'everyone leaving for the day rush' only for shouting to be heard from outside. Of course most everyone rushed outside to see what was going on, and since my dog went with them I followed.

Wymark was standing in the street, still wearing a sleeping cap. He was once a broad man, with small eyes and thick fingers that looked deceptively clumsy. I'd seen his work, he was frustratingly good at what he did, keeping him in general good standing around the village despite his attitude and drinking problem. The shouting only increased as I stopped outside, the man's eyes falling on me and his thick face twisting and turning red, finger jabbing in my direction.

"You! It was you, it had to have been! My life's work has been stolen and here you stand, bold as brass! Arrest her, arrest her now!"

This is entirely too much shit to be dealing with before my second cup of coffee. Haldor seemed to agree, from where he was standing near the irate jeweler, holding his hands up and stepping slightly between us.

"Calm down, let's settle this in a civilized manner."

"Civilized?! How can you expect civility from a barbarian! Look who she consorts with, just look at _her,_ look at what her kin have done to us, to _me!_ "

Of course Krumran had sidled close to me in the madness, and looked thoroughly unamused at being brought into the argument and reminded how some around here were uneasy of his kind, though he was visibly intrigued by the mention of my 'kin', and was struck by how odd it was that neither Lisbet nor I had told him how I'd ended up in this little village.

Before Haldor could speak again someone emerged from the inn, swinging the door open forcefully with a loud 'bang' and brandishing an emerald around the size of his thumb.

"Look! Found in the barbarians room! See how she squirrels away her hoard?"  
There were whispers and I cleared my throat, mind flitting between my options before words escaped my mouth without my permission.

"Prove it."

His smile sagged,

"...what?"  
"You say that came from my room? Where? How did you get in when the door is locked? Why did you go searching my rooms so quickly and without permission or an order? Why do it alone when there's no one to back your word that it was indeed found among my things?"

He turned red, and I couldn't tell whether it was from fury or embarrassment, whatever he was about to say cut off when Haldor interjected,

"Peace! I will investigate this personally. Until me and my men come to a conclusion all parties will remain in the village and out of our way."

He left, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do to 'investigate'. I could probably mess around and create dust and adhesive or paint or something to lift fingerprints, and then use ink and paper to fingerprint everybody in town, but honestly at this point no one would trust me to do something like that, and if I _had_ stolen Wymarks prized project then I wouldn't stick around. Then again, leaving abruptly would also have been cause for suspicion...I didn't know much about crime and investigation other than what I'd read in novels and seen in CSI and Sherlock. Who even knew how things like that worked here.

As the crowd of watchers dispersed, some of Wymarks close friends drawing him aside comfortingly, I couldn't help but hear the snatches of whispers as Krumran dragged me away.

"-always was a strange one-"

"-the dog wasn't with her yesterday evening was he?"

"No, no, he wouldn't exactly be good for stealth and sneaking around, now would he?"  
I snorted at the last one, despite how it would probably be a good point in the evidence pushed against me. Padfoot actually _was_ capable of stealth, he helped with hunting after all. I was yanked out of my thoughts and eavesdropping quite literally by the dwarf as he dragged me into the inn and to a quiet corner. It wasn't out of sight, just out of hearing. He glowered at any and everyone that passed us, hissing under his breath.

"This is ridiculous! Imagine, them referring to you as a thief. You! Do men often baselessly accuse their own young of crimes?"

"Not their own young, but I'm not exactly one of them, now am I?"  
He sighed, pulling out his pipe and glaring at a youth that had the misfortune of passing too close to him. Once he had the pipe lit and a few puffs down to calm his temper he blew out a smoke ring and turned his dark eyes to me.

"I've never asked why that man held such a grudge against you, I always thought it wasn't my place to inquire for details on your past when I never contributed much of my own. But...now I think it best to fold. What happened between the two of you?"  
He looked like he didn't honestly expect me to answer, and for a second I debated skirting the question. It wouldn't do me any good, I decided. He was my friend, one of the few I had here in this strange place, especially with the weird turn the morning had taken. With Lisbet caught up in spending time with her new husband, who I didn't exactly approve of by the way, I was left on my own more often than not. I had no doubt the dwarf would have good advice to offer if he knew what was going on. So I shrugged with half a shoulder and twisted my mug between my hands, focusing my eyes on a spot a little to the right and up of his ear, on the wall behind him.

"It...wasn't exactly between the two of us, it has to do with our families...clashing, if you could call it that."

"Ah, so this is a blood feud? Nasty business, that is."

I snorted,

"Ph, not exactly. I...come from very, very far away from here. There was...a tragedy of sorts, and my people were scattered across these lands. I don't actually know the story, and those that could explain it to me are dead. But I'll tell you what I know."

He looked completely intrigued and invested from that short blurb alone, and I couldn't help but wonder who he'd side with in this. These people were so strange, it was said back home that the language one thought in could affect personality and the very _way_ someone thought, and the language here was so very different from what I was used to...I took a drink of coffee and grimaced at the weak flavor before continuing.

"I myself was sixteen years old when I found myself alone in these lands, with a puppy." I pointed at where Padfoot was thumping his tail against the side of someone's chair in an attempt to attract their attention to his begging attempt. "He was small enough for me to cart around in my arms, believe it or not. Anyway, we stumbled around like the stupid kids we were until several...well, _years_ later we ran into men on horses. Men that knew my mother tongue." Krumran hadn't moved or reacted yet from what I could see, but when I paused he gave an encouraging motion to continue. "I let my guard down, because the words they used, and their accents, were so familiar. I really shouldn't have. I woke up in a wagon, arms and legs bound, that poor furball was muzzled, and all the other women were terrified of me once I spoke in the language of their captors. I didn't know the language of this land yet, and I couldn't ask them what was going on. I'm actually kind of lucky that our captors were the dramatic sort, because they explained it to me when we stopped."

I clenched my hands around the mug, forcing my expression to stay calm despite how furious I _still_ was at those bastards.

"They learned the language of this land and started up a trade system. They would trick the people of my home...and sell them as slaves. Of course there were fewer and fewer of us left after a while, and eventually those in captivity died out and were replaced, but they were finding less new blood and had turned to picking up the local populace to add to their…'wares'. I was the last one that they had managed to find of our people, and the women with me were those of this village. I aided in distracting our captors so the men of this village could swoop in and save the day, but...Wymark's daughter died before even leaving the village. He blames my kin for his daughter's death, rightly so really, and since they're all dead now that blame falls fully to me in his eyes."

I paused before tacking on,

"This village is the only place I know, in these lands. I haven't dared to leave, despite the tension. Here I have Lisbet, who puts up with me and my language and cultural difficulties."

There was a moment of silence before he sighed heavily,

"Well, this is more of a mess than I had thought. So you're saying that he holds a grudge for something that only peripherally has to do with you, and that you have no kin to stand up for you?"

I blinked, finally meeting his eyes and nodding after a second.

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Mahal, girl, why do even stay here?"  
I huffed,

"No one to stand up for me, remember? I...was on my own, for a _long_ time. I don't mean there was no one to take care of me, I mean complete and utter isolation from anything other than my prey and my dog for years. I'm...not certain it didn't affect my sanity in some way. These people were the first I saw in a long time, and I told myself I was staying because they knew me, and felt they owed me in some small way so it was safe to stay and learn about these lands here, but after a while...I guess I became accustomed to it, and was too afraid to strike out on my own and risk that numbing silence again."

He groaned, rubbing his face as best he could without disturbing the various braids and beads in his beard.

"Not good reasoning, but not the worst I've heard, so I'll let it go for now. What do you plan to do about this accusation?"  
"...good question."

This time he looked like he wanted to hit something, puffing on that pipe of his furiously, muttering to himself in a language I didn't understand before sighing out a stream of smoke.

"Alright. Do as you will about it, but I'll be extending my stay by a few days. I was with you most of the night, and though I doubt my word is worth much in the eyes of these men I'll not let my lack of testimony be the reason these accusations stuck."

I restrained myself from hugging him, thought it was a close thing. He did business around town for the rest of the day, continuing to sell wares as best he could and discreetly gather information about what the popular opinions were around the village, while I sat in the inn, in plain view to avoid people saying I was planning on slipping away.

I was jotting down suspects and possible motives, having dismissed the possibility that Wymark could be lying to finally have something done about me, when someone sank into the chair directly to my right. I paused in my writing, and put the pen down completely when I saw who it was. Haldor wasn't an overly kind man, but he wasn't the sort to arrest me just to make the uproar die down and things go back to normal. He opened his mouth a few times, eyes darting from me to the paper, lined with neat cursive, before he cleared his throat.

"Ah, I was going to ask...it doesn't matter. Why did you not inform me you could read and write?"  
I shrugged,

"Didn't seem to matter, since it's only in the languages from home anyway."

He left then, without another word, and I could only hope that wasn't a strike against me. Would he take that as me having a history of lying or something? I asked Krumran about it when he returned, and the dwarf only shrugged.

"I think it looks more like you're a private person. _I_ wasn't aware you had such a skill, and I doubt you told Lisbet, now did you? Hmph, thought not. We shall just have to wait and see."

The dwarf was still there when Haldor returned, an object kept behind his back. The dwarfs hand strayed to one of the twin axes at his sides until the man moved the object to before us, handing it to me.

"Here, this was found among your peoples things...back when you first came to be with us. I had thought it would be of no use to you, and obviously I was wrong. I apologize for my assumptions."

With that he turned and basically fled, still managing to look as dignified as always. I held the object gently in shaking hands as Krumran whistled,

"I haven't seen something quite like this before."

"...I have."

It was a notebook, a bound notebook, the stupid kind with black and white speckled fronts that never stayed open properly when you tried to write and were _killer_ on left handed people. After a brief moment of hesitation I opened the cover.

 _My name is Kyle Shaffer, I am 27 years old._

It was a simple enough way to begin a journal entry for someone crossing worlds, but Kyle had _not_ looked anywhere near 27. I would have guessed he was in his fifties and doing pretty good to keep his health up.

 _I was on my way home from work when I stumbled in an alleyway. When I looked up I was surrounded by trees. No transition, no feeling of falling like all the stories say, just there and then here._

Well, that was already different from what happened to me. Perhaps that was because, like he said before, things were slowing down in how many people were dropped off, and he thought I was the last. That would make sense, a grand finale of sorts. But the date he said he fell wasn't right. He even wrote it all out in word form, there was no mistaking it. Three days _after_ I fell. How could one year age someone that much? And how could I have missed it if he fell somewhere close by? And the alley he fell from was a town over, only a few miles away from my own. The end of the first entry was basically bitching about how much he hates living in the 'middle ages', and that writing with a quill is a bitch, he was dreading his only pen giving out. Well then.

I moved on to the next entry, and he explained in the very first paragraph that he was keeping the date as if he had never left, in order to keep some semblance of sanity. It was roughly three years after he had fallen through. Three years after the week we would have fallen through hadn't even _passed_ by the time he was killed.

 _I would blame this damned ancient way of life and the different environment for the advanced signs of aging, and the arthritis but I'm not so sure anymore. I heard someone swearing in English one day in the market. I tracked them down and found it was a man named Carl. He looked like he was around his mid-twenties, but introduced himself as in his seventies. I was skeptical at best but he explained himself pretty quickly. I think he was just grateful to have someone who understood him. He said he fell through on March the third, of the year 2000, and that he had been here for only five years. The time didn't add up with my own arrival, so I decided to test him. I'll admit that breaking the news of a national American tragedy to a war veteran like that was a bit mean, but his reaction more than proved he was not around during September of '01._

I had to close the book for a second and just fume. That ass hole. I was worried that the journal would make me see him as a human being and feel all the more guilty over his death. Instead, I was feeling guilty for wanting to slap a dead guy. After I had taken a few minutes mentally vocalize how much of a heartless dickhead Kyle was I went back to his writings.

 _I once watched a movie something about a guy named Benji or something, anyway he aged backwards. According to Carl that's what started to happen to him after his arrival. I stuck around with him for a while, and it became obvious that he was indeed telling the truth. It made me doubt that my advanced age was all in my head._

I frowned down at the page, not liking where he was likely to go with this. I had, for a few minutes, thought about the effect changing dimensions would have on my health but after a year of nothing, and another year of more nothing I had assumed it was fine. When mom caught something deadly on a mission trip to a third world country Dad shelled out stupid amounts of cash to have both Terese and I inoculated against fucking everything in existence possible. So illness wasn't too much of a worry for me but interdimensional magic fucking with us...I don't think I had a vaccine for that. Krumran was watching, I could feel his eyes on me, and knew he realized I was distressed by whatever I was reading, but stayed silent so I didn't bother to talk to him, instead turning to the next entry. It wasn't dated.

 _I met a man named Gordon who spoke English. He says he's from February of 2022. I didn't believe him but damned if that cell phone of his wasn't fancy as hell. Solar powered and the slimmest thing you've seen. It was thin as a piece of paper and with a certain combination of buttons it stops being stiff and can be crumpled up and put into your pocket or folded so it fits somewhere better. Gordon looks like I did when I first arrived, but he tells me that four days from today is his 24th anniversary of arrival. From the look of him it would mean he was born here or something, but he says he was a teen when he arrived, and he just aged slowly. After the strangeness of Carl and the proof of his phone about his origin I'm inclined to believe him. It's like the baby vampire from Breaking Dawn, or the werewolves. We don't know if he'll stop aging eventually, like the former, or just keep at it slowly like the latter._

I closed my eyes for a second to just breathe, trying my best not to think so I could recover for a second. This was one of my worst fears, my being from elsewhere coming back to bite me in the ass in a way that killed me. I spent a split second wondering how this guy knew that much about the Twilight series, then I snapped the book back open, skimming over the story of Clarissa, the first woman they found, who they kept due to her young age. She was from 2008, Christmas Day. She aged quickly, going from 6 to 60 in a matter of months, mind aging the way it should normally, but body outstretching her and dying before she could even speak Westron properly. I nearly cried at the thought of her, but kept shuffling through stories. Kyle found more people, all with strange stories to tell, all of their timelines crumpled together. Apparently, World War Three began in 2043, according to someone named Margaret. She, like many others had been sold to the slave trade. The aging issue had been seen as a boon. Those who aged slowly were given to rich or important customers to make a good name for advertisement. Those who aged quickly or unpredictably were great for creating the need for repeat customers.

I was nearly sick at how much they thought about it, how little regard they had for human life, for the humans from their own country, their own world. Not a soul was from anywhere but America, and all near my town, where I had fallen through. It was near old Indian grounds, but where in America wasn't these days? Those days, I guess. Kyle explained the aging away to his clients with the same reason he explained them not knowing the common language around here. Being foreign, exotic, or a race of magical beings. It explained the wide varieties they had, in size, color, type, and accent as well. They then began branching out to 'local' girls because of the sudden drying up of the dimensional dumping grounds in the middle of the wilderness.

The next to last entry was about 'Tommy Boy', who I had been told about when I was captured. A 12-year-old from 1941 whose parents had sent him to live with his aunt in America when the war started. He aged quickly. Too quickly. According to this by the end of the second month he was an old man, infirm, and unable to walk unaided, though he had aged slower after the initial jump. The most severe case they'd had yet. He was the last male to pop through, with me being the last female. The very last entry was about me.

 _Our last find was a fiery haired girl who managed to bring her dog with her. The dog had a perfectly fitting collar, so we figure she just fell through. My uncle had a dog like that, with the dew claws on the hind legs. He's still growing rapidly. She had to have just bought the collar he was wearing for it to fit as it does. We'll have to watch her aging closely while she's here with us. It's not visible like that dark-skinned girl whose hair fell out, and grew wrinkles as we watched. She only lasted hours once it kicked in. I have a feeling this one will be good for one of our more loyal buyers over in the White City. The trip should be a good chance to observe her rates, then we can decide how high up the food chain she can be sold._

I dropped the book on the table and put my head in my hands, groaning in despair.

"I do _not_ need this bullshit right now!"

Krumran cleared his throat and I looked up at him warily. He saw the tears forming in my eyes and did what any self-respecting male would do when faced with a female near break down. He politely excused himself and fled. I pushed him out of my mind, unsure which issue to focus on, the townspeople out for my blood, or worrying over the possibility of an immediate and sort of 'natural' death. I voted for neither and instead got some ale and drank myself silly. Yeah, probably not the best option.

 **The delay is because I actually wrote 21 chapters for this and then decided I didn't like the storyline, so I started over...sorry? Hey, at least this chapter is twice the size of the usual ones for this fic.**

 **~TimeLordOfPie**


	8. Chapter 8

I was right, drinking my problems away was an extremely bad idea, and how shitty I felt the next day was proof of that. Krumran, when I found him later that day, had no sympathy for me. Not that I spoke much to him, there was entirely too much going on in my head between the investigation and the 'impending magical collapse of my health' drama. Dwarves had magic, right? Or something like that? I didn't want to ask because that might be myth that he would get offended by, or might be some part of his culture he wasn't allowed to talk about, but damn did I want help with this.

I read through the notebook several more times, doing calculations on separate sheets of paper using the half assed details Kyle had given and trying to brute force my way to an answer. It's almost ironic how it came to me once I'd finally given up.

I shoved the papers haphazardly into the notebook out of frustration and stood from my chair, abandoning the subject for now. The next day I was wandering town, Padfoot off with Krumran somewhere, and I was worrying over how long the dwarf would actually be able to stay when a voice called my name. I turned, barely dodging out of the way of the small figure as it rushed me. Kaylin puffed her cheeks out cutely in frustration, blond hair long and flowing behind her in a tangled mess. In her arms was the not-so-young-anymore rabbit I'd caught for her, perfectly happy with its lot in life by the way it lolled in her arms, twitching nose it's only movement.

She related her frustration to me with much waving around of the rabbit and raising of voice, apparently he wasn't learning tricks like Padfoot quick enough for her. I very carefully didn't laugh, instead answering all her questions about rabbits and dog training, freely admitting when I didn't know the answer to one of them, including how fast rabbit fur grows. She groaned, running a hand gently through the fur and glaring down at the animal.

"He's soft, he's just...I don't want him to get _cooold_! Are you sure you don't know how fast hair grows?"

The answer came to me automatically, mind flashing to the biology book that was languishing in my bag at the inn.

"Human hair grows half an inch every month, but he doesn't have hair."

She'd corrected me often enough on the difference between the words for 'hair' and 'fur' that I felt justified pointing it out to her. She huffed, irritated,

"Well if that's true then why is your hair still so short, huh?"  
I opened my mouth to explain haircuts as a cultural thing only to hesitate, mouth closing slowly. I patted her head gently with one hand, the other ruffling the rabbit's fur.

"Why don't you just knit him a sweater, if you're concerned for him."

She took the suggestion and ran off with it, though I didn't hear what she said through the pounding of blood in my ears. I barely made it back to the inn, sinking down at my usual table and putting my head in my hands and trying to breath. My hair was short, it hadn't grown, not at all in the _years_ I'd been here. Nothing about me had changed. True, I've lost weight, and managed to put on muscle tone, but I haven't grown as I should have. My mother, father, even my sister were taller than this by my age, no one in my family was this small by the time they stopped growing.

The thoughts haunted me for a long time, days passed and the investigation continued, with people being cleared of blame and leaving town in the meantime. Lisbet was sitting across from me and going on about the part her husband was playing in the investigation when it hit me I didn't have to worry about it alone. I smiled at her, hand going to where the notebook was tucked into the inside pouch of my cloak before something she said sent me stuttering to a halt.

"...what?"

She flushed, her words catching up to her finally,

"Um, just that, it _is_ kind of strange, you know? Carden has heard so many things, it's just…I'm not saying you _did_ do it, just that...it doesn't exactly look good."

She refused to meet my eye, changing the subject quickly. My hand fell away from the book and I stared at the table in front of me long after she'd excused herself to go home to her new husband. She'd done that a lot lately, but it was to be expected that she would spend more time with her husband than with me, especially since he wasn't fond of me and it caused tension when he saw us together. It wasn't like she'd verbally accused me of stealing from Wymark...so why did that small admission feel so much like a betrayal anyway?

Krumran finally admitted, just to break the silence that surrounded me after Lisbet's admission, that he put some of the blame for this upon himself.

"My people aren't trusted by yours, it is the only thing I can think of that could cause such a rift between you and your own kind, that you consort with outsiders."

I snorted, almost not even deigning to address that bit of stupidity until I saw his serious expression. Rolling my eyes I put down the mug I'd been about to take a drink from and settled my hands on the table between us.

"Look, I don't give a damn what they think, you're my friend and they can suck a dick if they think ill of you for something as stupid as race."

He ignored my foul language as always, turning away and huffing,

"Well, it doesn't matter what you believe, it's what _they_ believe that has you under scrutiny."

He wasn't wrong. That didn't mean I was going to distance myself from him. He was the only friend I had left, since Lisbet hadn't spoken to me again since that night. He continued to look into things, his own guilt driving him to stay, and mine driving me to get this wrapped up as quickly as possible so he could get home like he was so anxious to do.

He did a lot of the footwork, because if I got caught poking around somewhere it could be used as fuel for accusations and that was the last thing we needed, but he was good at sneaking around, surprisingly so for someone whose beads jangled as much as his did. It was because of this skill that we happened upon the evidence that we did. The dwarf managed to overhear tell of a group of traders who had set up their wares leaving in one large group the day before the theft, only a single member of their company had stayed behind, seen leaving during the commotion of Wymark accusing me.

It wasn't much to go off, but it was enough to have the both of us sneaking off to the next town to look into it. They town likely wouldn't notice I was missing for a while, we were counting on their investigating and theorizing to keep them busy while we found the traders and either crossed them off our suspect list or dragged back the real culprit. Camping with Krumran was about like our normal evening at the inn, only with more trees and less ale. Each night I was infinitely more grateful to have him for a friend.

It was on one of the quieter nights that I broke, pulling out the journal and gearing myself up to explain. His eyes followed the journal and I saw the recognition in them,

"That is the item that was found among your kins belongings, isn't it?"

"...yes. It's a record of their sales, of...of the whereabouts of the last of my people."

His eyes widened and he glanced from the notebook to me,then back again.

"You're not planning to hunt them down, are you? The slave trade is frowned upon, but it's a dangerous thing for one girl to mess with, even if she has a bow and a dog."

"What? No, I…"

The thought hadn't actually crossed my mind, and guilt raged through me for several seconds. There were people out there, people from the same town, country, _universe_ , as me, and they were suffering, confused, dying. And I hadn't spared a single thought to helping them. My plans changed immediately, and I groaned, slapping both hands to my face to rub at it, dropping the journal to my lap in the process.

"Sort of. Not in the way you think. I'll gather information first or something, I've got some sales records in here that are helpful, but really that's not what was messing with my head before." I took a deep breath to brace myself. "There was...a magic, of sorts, about where I used to live, about my country." I'd been very careful with coming up with this not-lie to explain the dimension hopping without actually sounding crazy. Magic was accepted here, but iPhones and gates of truth were not things I wanted to touch on at the moment. "When everything fell, when the gates...let's just say we got disconnected from it. We'd lived with it all our lives, living without it had...side effects."

His eyes were roving my face now, likely looking for signs of illness and I shook my head, smiling crookedly and trying to ignore yet more guilt because I wasn't dying but some of the others hadn't lasted even minutes in this place.

"Not side effects like you'd think." I flipped open the journal. "One woman began aging almost immediately upon leaving our home, dragged away by the slavers. She didn't even make it to the market, she faded to dust within minutes. A man aged backwards, reliving his youth in reverse until one morning his clothes were empty and he was gone. A young boy aged in spurts, reaching his majority within weeks, but stayed there for months, and then aged to his deathbed, where he stayed for a year before one of the slavers put him out of his misery."

I glanced up at my friend, and I couldn't tell if he was still breathing or not, eyes fixed on mine intently. "I didn't know about this, since I hadn't met any of my people since it happened, and...I didn't notice that my hair hasn't grown since I got here. I haven't gotten taller, I don't...the only thing different is the muscle I've built up and the weight loss from the sudden change in diet. Absolutely all of the changes of the others happened before the first year here was up. I've been here several. I'm not sure what to do with that information."

He took in a deep, shaking breath, pulling his hands across his eyes and then one down to tangle in his beard while the other buried itself into Padfoots fur.

"I don't know what to tell you, Lassie, except maybe to be grateful your sentence was more kind."

"...I don't think it kind to outlive all of my people. I should go find them, after this, if any are left. If any age like me, which is not at all apparently, then we could stick together, or something. I don't really have a plan beyond convince the townspeople I'm not a thief. I won't stay there, after. Lisbet hasn't spoken to me in days...she believes the stories, you know."

He sighed heavily, muttering under his breath for a second.

"Lisbet...is a good girl. Too good, some might say. She lives to please people, and right now she's shackled too...what did you call him?"

"... _cuntmuffin, asswagon, twatwaffle, titsickle_ -"

"No, no, in this language."

"A pretentious ass kisser."

"Yes, that."

"...I liked the other ones better."

We were still laughing when they came out of the trees. Still yelling about how they knew they were being followed, or something of the sort. I wasn't sure how to react, I hadn't faced a human opponent since those slavers, and I wasn't in the position to fight then. My instinct I had reached for my bow, but these were _people_ , not deer. Someone came close to me and I lashed out, basically pistol whipping them with the bow. I winced in sympathy before pulling back and violently kicking them in the face. When they didn't move other than to breathe I turned my focus back to the main fighting, which was a man I recognized from the village, one of those who had traveled with the traders...a man who had stayed behind to see my accusation.

The man standing in front of my friend, sword to axe, was unfamiliar, and I forced myself to ignore him, because the other had a blade raised, ready to come down on the only real friend I had left. I didn't think, nocking, drawing, releasing, in what felt like the space between heartbeats. The whistle drew both of their attentions, giving Krumran the upper hand against the much larger man, killing him almost instantly. I took deep breaths, trying to look at the one who had my arrow in his chest, instead staring up at the unfamiliar stars of this strange world, and trying to come to terms with what had happened. I knew there was no other way to save Krumran. Check. Would the man have killed me? Check. Did his attempt on our lives take away his right to live? How about I ignore this entire thing for as long as possible. Perfect, sounds nice.

After one more shuddering breath I stood up, turning to start packing our things.

"The probably aren't camped that far from us, we should-"

I stopped at the hand on my shoulder, half turning, pausing when I saw what was in his hand.

"You're joking, he kept it on him?"  
"Yes, it's likely he was working alone, and the caravan was not involved. Of course he would join the party following from the village, just in case he had to intercept the accusations."

I nodded along dumbly, holding my key to freedom loosely.

"...fair enough. The _movies_ always made this seem harder."

"What?"  
"Nothing. Let's move camp, maybe back towards the village, I'd hate to run into these guys twice in one night."

When we finally made it back to the village a few days later it looked similar to an overturned anthill, people running everywhere and shouting at one another. I stayed behind the treeline, Krumran heading into town to investigate, just to be sure no 'evidence' was found to convict me. I climbed a tree in the meantime, Padfoot napping down in the bushes below it while I sat above with an arrow at the ready, fully prepared to snipe the shit out of anyone who tried to hurt my dog.

When the dwarf returned it was at a full run, stopping only when Padfoot stuck his head out of the underbrush to softly 'boof' a greeting. Before he could look around from me I dropped lightly to the ground, far enough away that if I startled him he wouldn't have the reach to take my head off. He jumped back, and the snarky comment I expected didn't come, instead I got a grim statement.  
"Wymark is dead. He was found in his bed this morning, the decision is that you poisoned him and left in the night. Lisbet is sure that she saw you yesterday, tho she didn't speak to you. They've decided to charge you with assassination."  
I blinked slowly, then again a few times rapidly.

"What."

"I said-"

"No, I know what you said, I was hoping that I didn't understand the words correctly. Wow. Me, an assassin...nope, can't see it."

I was slightly pissed at the irony of the fact that I actually _had_ killed someone, just not the someone I was being accused of killing.

"...I guess I'll be taking these jewels and making a run for the border?"  
"Which border?"  
"...I don't know any geography at all, so whichever one I hit first. That direction looks nice."

He rolled his eyes, instead pulling me along in a direction a few degrees East of where I had randomly pointed, pace brisk, I had to almost jog to keep up, I didn't notice the bag he was holding until he shoved it into my arms. My bag. The last of my things I'd left a the inn to avoid weighing me down while I chased the caravan.

"I think not. We shall travel together for a ways, until you come up with a _real_ plan."

Well, who am I to argue with that?

 **Sorry for the delay, but at least the stories moving now?**

 **~TimeLordOfPie**


End file.
